Hive of the Dead
by Whiskey144
Summary: An immense spire, mysterious and dark- a squad of Imperial Guardsmen- a Council Spectre and her team- a platoon of Alliance Marines... And the horrors that will assail them. Enter now, the Hive of the Dead.


_Disclaimer: I own only the OCs. Mass Effect and Warhammer 40,000 are owned by their respective owners._

* * *

As the Valkyrie rocked in the high winds that buffeted the area surrounding the largest hive spire on Hieyronymus, Jeremiah Kellum wondered just what was worth the risk of sending the Valkyrie, a squad of Guardsmen, and a high-ranking adept of the Scholastica Psykana to the surface- but didn't warrant the deployment of the Astartes. Surely the posthuman supersoldiers of the Space Marines would be better suited to the task at hand? Still, his was not to question, only to obey, and to lead those under his own command.

He looked over his ragtag squad of disparate faces- or masks, in this case. Two of the others- three, including himself- wore Cadian-standard, Kantrael-pattern helmets; Yestr, his second in command and the squad's medic, and Faltan, the squad's special weapons operator. Two wore the Death Korps' Mark IX plasteel helmet, along with the trademark gasmasks of that regiment; these were Keled, a Grenadier and the breaching specialist, and Dseke, the demolitions specialist from the Death Korps Engineer companies. Two others wore the Type 5 pressure helmets of the Elysian Drop Troops- his vox and ground scanner operators, Golt and Helmawr, respectively. Finally was Strakes, a Catachan who was a masterful sniper and well skilled in insurgency and the countering thereof, Suhara, a Tallarn with a penchant for tracking down anything that left tracks, and Helgast, a Steel Legionnaire who carried the squad's missile launcher.

Of course, there was also the Lady Psyker Du'Vray. She was apparently along to help locate whatever they were looking for. She hadn't offered her first name, and Kellum hadn't bothered to ask. Even though he was a Cadian by birth, he'd been shuttled around quite a bit- especially in the wake of the Thirteenth Black Crusade. The carnage left by that monumental action- so immense it was still ongoing to a degree- had decimated his regiment, putting him in his current predicament. Apparently, the entire squad was made of survivors- even Du'Vray, or she wouldn't have been assigned to the mission.

The consequence, of course, was that Kellum often had to combine very disparate methods of tactical operation and deployment- on top of the widely differing attitudes. More than once he'd had to forcibly order the Death Korpsmen to safety, and on one occasion he'd even had to threaten Strakes from getting too far ahead as their scouting element, and risking a dangerous over extension of their capability.

"How far out are we?" he voxed to the pilots of the aircraft.

"Not more than ten minutes; damned wind keeps slowing us down though, so it'll be a rough landing." was the reply.

"Copy that, we'll prep for a touch and go."

"Much appreciated. The Emperor protects."

The link clicked, signaling that the pilots were finished speaking. Kellum began rallying his squad, prepping them for the 'touch and go'- a maneuver wherein the Valkyrie assault carrier they were aboard would come in to a hover, several meters above the ground, and the occupants would jump off. This allowed the aircraft to quickly deploy infantry, as well as quickly leave the area. Considering that the assault carrier wasn't going to be remaining on station for fire support- a difficult task in the confines of a hive spire in any case- this was essential. Especially since they were already nearing the operational limits of the aircraft's endurance.

With the addition of drop-tanks however, the Valkyrie would be able to remain on station in a limited capacity- acting as a vox-relay for the squad's vox-caster, and providing an uplink to detachment command. Presumably this was so they could request reinforcements. Kellum judged it was so that if his team failed, the commanding officers would know to pull out- whilst they would leave eleven people behind, it was better than having the entire fleet be lost to a warpstorm.

Kellum knew this, but it still irked him. Acting in what was an effectively expendable capacity was not how he had learned to fight- though, he reflected, it might very well have been somewhat comforting, or at least familiar, for the Death Korpsmen among his squad. His thoughts were brought to a halt when the Valkyrie shuddered particularly violently, knocking some of his squad into each other. There was some grumbling- as always- but not overly much. He grinned behind his respirator- they were starting to act more like a team when they weren't in combat. Kellum looked over at Du'Vray, to determine if she too was grumbling with the rest of the squad.

Surprisingly, she seemed relatively unaffected by the goings-on of the aircraft's tumultuous decent. He scrutinized her appearance, having only given it passing attention before. Her headgear looked to be the usual Cadian helmet and respirator unit, with some subtle- but slightly noticeable at the same time- alterations. The rest of her uniform resembled the usual flak armor issued to most Guardsmen, though there were some odd crystalline elements here and there. In the oddity of her uniform, she did fit in with the general disunity of appearance that the rest of his squad had.

Whilst they were all wearing pressurized, environment-sealed gear, some had lighter equipment than others. The other Cadians of his squad wore flak armor, with some additional pieces scavenged from the battlefield- Suhara and Strakes wore the absolute minimum of protection, whilst Keled, Dseke, and Helgast wore full or nearly-full suits of carapace armor. Both Elysians wore the standard jumpsuits and flak armor of their regiments, whilst Kellum himself wore Kasrkin-style carapace.

Du'Vray seemed to sense him looking at her, and returned his gaze, before vox-clicking a private channel open with him. Surprised, Kellum somewhat warily returned the click, which Du'Vray took as acceptance to talk.

"You realize that we aren't going to come back from this mission, yes?" she said- more of a statement than a question in her phrasing.

"Probably. But I can't say that I won't try to get back to the rest of the detachment." he answered.

"Detachment? You're not part of a combined regiment?"

"No; we were formed as an Inquisitor's pet project- so I gather, at least. From what I understand, we were intended to be the longest-surviving men of our regiments. I think the idea was to form us into a unit like that of the Storm Trooper companies that are often attached to a regiment. We've even got our own issue of some pieces of equipment, gear especially for the missions we're intended for."

"Interesting. By the way, when I say, 'not going to come back', I mean, 'not going to come back to the detachment'. I would have said regiment, but as you've just informed me that's incorrect."

"So then what are we going to come back to? And what makes you so sure anyways?"

Du'Vray's posture became somewhat... unsure, would be how Kellum would describe it. At least at a later point in time, when he'd had the opportunity to go through everything in his mind.

"As to the first, I don't know. As to the second... I'd rather not say. Suffice to say, however, that I'm certain, and that you and I, at least, will survive."

Kellum's eyes narrowed. Perhaps Du'Vray saw a change in his own posture, perhaps she sensed it by her psychic abilities, but she quickly added, "I am no consort to the Ruinous Powers, if that is what you are wondering."

He clicked the link closed on his end, and Du'Vray evidently decided not to further sour his mood by pushing the issue with him. He ended up being relieved from further brooding on the matter when the Valkyrie crew announced that they were thirty seconds out from their destination.

"Alright men, on the ground in twenty!" he yelled, and they began getting up from their seats and grabbing equipment crates and satchels within the cramped confines of the troop compartment of the assault carrier. Several muttered or murmured prayers could be heard on the squad vox-channel, though they were ignored by everyone else, as a courtesy to those who were making their peace with the Emperor. Du'Vray, thankfully, remained silent for the, albeit very short, remainder of the flight.

The rear ramp of the Valkyrie opened, and as soon as the door was facing the landing pad, Golt and Helmawr leapt from it- whilst the rest of the squad would have waited until the Valkyrie was around three or four meters above the pad, the Elysians jumped when it was still a staggering twenty meters up. Each activated his gravchute flawlessly, landing with a practiced ease. Strakes and Suhara were out next- Strakes jumping at fifteen meters, and Suhara waiting until ten. When the aircraft had reached five meters above the pad, the rest of the squad moved to disembark.

Kellum was nearly last out of the aircraft, but Du'Vray had decided to make her descent after everyone else- and, somewhat dangerously, when the Valkyrie was beginning to climb back to altitude. It was roughly a ten meter drop, and, without a gravchute, she would have shattered most of the bones in her body.

Somehow, she managed to land on lightly on her feet. Kellum could feel the tell-tale temperature drop that heralded a fair number of psykers, and their usage of the Warp. The rest of the squad either didn't notice, or decided that discretion was the better part of valor. He looked up, watching the Valkyrie leave. He had a sudden gut feeling that he was never going to see that Valkyrie ever again.

He shook it off, concentrating on the task at hand- marshaling his squad and heading into the hive spires. Kellum began issuing orders for equipment to be tallied- particularly rations and ammunition- as well as for said equipment to be packed up, so that it could be taken into the spire with them.

/|\

"Uh, Commander, you'd better come and have a look at this." came a voice over the intercom.

"Roger that Joker, I'm on my way to the CIC." replied Commander Jessica Shepherd, N7 commando, commanding officer of the _SSV Normandy SR-1_, and newly-inaugurated, first-ever, human Spectre agent.

As she rode the elevator down from her quarters to the CIC, she wondered what had made her pilot, Jeff "Joker" Moreau, so jumpy. The man was normally unflappable, with a sarcastic wit to accompany every conceivable situation. Whatever it was, it must have been _very_ strange to have spooked him. The elevator doors opened, and Shepherd looked out onto the CIC, and, in particular, the galaxy map. Several other crewmembers were clustered around it in interest.

"Pressley, what have you got for me?" she asked. The ship's navigator looked up at her.

"I'm not quite sure Commander. We just picked up a very weak signal. It might be an SOS of some sort, but the signal strength is far too poor to determine the contents. All we can tell is that there's something out there, and it presumably wants to be found."

"But there's something different about this one." Shepherd said, filling in the unspoken words that everyone was thinking."

"Yeah, look at the map." Kaiden Alenko, one of her ground team, said. "The signal is coming from pretty far off the relay system. Whoever might be out there, either just figured out spaceflight, or had a really big gas tank."

He punctuated his remark by pointing to the signal's marker on the map, which, in relation to most well-traveled systems was quite far off.

Shepherd nodded, and then walked over to the cockpit. "Joker," she said quietly, "can we make it?"

Her pilot looked annoyed for a moment, before saying, "Of course we can make it. The real question is whether we want to, and I, for one, am not particularly keen on this." Seeing her slightly questioning expression, he added, "I'll still get us there if you decide on that Commander. I'll just complain the whole way."

She grinned slightly. That was certainly the pilot she'd gotten to know during the, admittedly short, time they'd been working together. She returned to the CIC, and spoke to the assembled crew.

"We're going to make a detour here, see if there's someone in need of help. Since we have a platoon of Alliance Marines aboard, we're also going to be deploying them- chances are, the extra hands will at least be helpful. Any questions?"

There weren't any, and everyone mustered off to prepare for the mission. Shepherd, too, went to prepare- though she left instructions that she be alerted to when they made orbit and any status updates that they might then have. She gave the galaxy map one last look, before wondering to herself just what might have happened so far off the spaceways.

/|\

They'd been on the ground for roughly six hours, having made moderate progress through the spire towards the beacon that that they were tracking. Throughout their journey, they'd encountered no hostiles- though according to Strakes and Suhara, the signs of someone living there, and recently, were all present.

Not to mention the fact that all of them agreed that they felt like they were being watched.

Even worse, vox contact with the Valkyrie was starting to get patchy. It was an eventuality that they'd thought would be likely, but it was still grating on the nerves. It was, however, nothing compared to what was to come.

"Sergeant, command on the vox. They want you." Golt said, alerting Kellum to the call. He nodded, clicking over his micro-bead to the command channel that was being routed through the vox caster that Gold carried.

"Sergeant Kellum here, go ahead Command."

As Kellum listened, his expression- and posture- darkened. He vox-clicked an acknowledgment, before turning to his men.

"Listen up, command has just voxed in- the warp storm is starting up, and they're pulling out. They've sent down a couple drop containers, somewhere in the upper levels of the spire- standard locator beacons on them, so shouldn't be too hard to get ahold of them- to help us hold out. I'll be honest with you, men, it's not much more than a token gesture. It also seems our Valkyrie isn't going to be leaving either- they've apparently been given orders to seek shelter within the spires.

"As of now, our mission is still the same. We've got some new objectives- recover the drop containers and rendezvous with the Valkyrie crew, but other than that, we're still going ahead with what we came here to do. There's not going to be any grumbling about this- and that's an order. Ten minutes rest, and then we try to raise that Valk on the vox. Understood?"

The rest of his men mumbled their affirmatives, fairly obviously displeased. Du'Vray walked over to him, her head cocked to the side, and quietly asked, "Why are we going ahead with the mission? There's no point now."

Kellum regarded her for a moment, before answering, "Yes, there's no point. But it gives them something to do, to focus on. We could try finding shelter, but I doubt there's much better than having as much hive between us and that storm. So we go ahead with the mission. Better than sitting around and twiddling our thumbs, at least."

She nodded as understanding dawned on her, before walking off to the side to sit down for a moment.

He looked out over his squad, and noticed that they all had a barely-noticeable sign of weariness. Not the kind of weariness that would have accompanied their march through the hive, but the kind that spoke of a weariness with their role. Most of them were tired of war, but still they soldiered on- if they didn't, then there would be no one to stand strong against the terrible things that battered the Imperium on a daily basis.

/|\

Having assembled her team in the conference room, they were all looking over the holographic representations of the world they were now in orbit of. Also present was the lieutenant in charge of the Alliance Marines platoon, Haversham. The world, which they had tagged 'Spire', for the numerous, and unimaginably colossal, towers that dotted its entire surface, was a bleak and desolate place. The atmosphere was a poisonous concoction, filled with hundreds of different pollutants and chemical melanges- few of which were actually identifable.

Weather patterns were similarly bizarre- acid rain was commonplace, and the storms that sparsely dotted the world seemed to form and dissipate at the drop of a hat. While there was no indication of the duration of the storms, they were intensely violent and caused massive interference with the _Normandy_'s sensor systems. But what really held their attention was the weak signal coming from one of the towers. It might have been a distress signal- though it was difficult to tell; there didn't seem to be any kind of embedded message, and even if there was, the signal itself was still too weak to discern one.

"So what's our plan, Commander?" Haversham said, bringing everyone else from their intense study of the maps.

Shepherd looked up at him, before pointing to the small red blip that represented the beacon.

"We're going to investigate that. Since it appears to be somewhere in the tower, and near the top at that, an aerial insertion of some sort should do the trick for quickly getting close."

Liara looked up, before saying, "Shepherd, how large are these towers?"

Everyone else looked up, before several people started jostling around and adjusting the controls for the display. After a few moments, it was apparent.

The spire was fiteen kilometers tall.


End file.
